On the way home after picking up my granddaughter at school, the seven-year-old gripped my hand tightly. “Grandma, hurry. Let’s go into the restroom.” She pulled me toward a stall and locked the door. I asked her, “What is going on?” She whispered, “Shh, don’t say anything. Look, Grandma.” Then she crouched down and looked through the gap under the door. I followed the direction of her gaze and was paralyzed with fear.
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